


Compromise

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:55:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Anders’ lips parted without looking at Hawke’s hand, engrossed in his writing. Hawke leaned in closer, slipping his fingertip into Anders’ mouth and smearing cream over his lips. He felt Anders’ sharp gasp, the flicker of his tongue against his fingertip, and then the gentle scrape of teeth as Anders closed his mouth and sucked with a quiet moan.</i><br/><i>“So </i>that’s<i> what it takes to distract you,” Hawke said softly, following Anders’ tongue across his bottom lip with his damp fingertip. “Something sweet.”</i></p><p>Anders and Justice have been working too hard, and Hawke decides to try to distract them using any means necessary. Fluffy and kinky OT3 smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: I know you've already distracted Anders once from his manifesto... But what about Hawke insisting he needs to eat and hand feeding him finger food (tiny sandwiches?) because he won't get up. The cheesy part of me says "OH NO. I dropped food in your lap. Let me get that for you. Don't mind me~" Maybe Justice starts writing dirty thoughts again and Anders takes action to keep Hawke from noticing? <3 <3
> 
> And I... mostly stuck to it. There's no more of Justice's absent-minded writing, sadly, but I think you'll enjoy what there is ;) This fic briefly references _Breaking the Silence_ (the fic, not the whole series) but you won't be missing anything at all by reading this on its' own. I'll probably slot this into the series when I hit this point in the timeline, but for now this is a standalone fic for #AndersPositive on Tumblr :) Enjoy!
> 
> This fic contains depictions of consensual kink.

Hawke lingered for a moment in the bedroom doorway, balancing the tray he carried one-handed and watching silently as Anders’ faintly glowing hands worked across the parchment. The fire had burned low and Anders was hunched low over the page, likely seeing more from Justice’s presence than from the firelight. His loose green shirt – _Hawke’s_ green shirt, to be more accurate – was rolled up to the elbows, and he sat with one leg tucked under him and a bare foot tapping out an anxious rhythm against the side of the chair.

“You don’t look like you’ve moved since I left,” Hawke said. Anders flinched – Hawke always managed to forget how jumpy he was, even here. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, approaching the desk.

“Not your fault,” Anders said, straightening his back with a groan. “I didn’t realise how late it was – how long were you gone?”

“About ten hours.” Hawke gently swept one of the collapsed stacks of parchment together to make room and set the tray down on the desk. “You promised you’d take breaks, eat – Orana says she hasn’t seen you all day.”

“I forgot,” Anders said, blunt honesty impossible to avoid with Justice so close to the surface. “It feels like it’s only been an hour – I’ll just finish these last three copies, then I’ll stop.”

“Love, _ten hours._ I think you’ve earned a rest.” Hawke gestured to the tray. “I assume you haven’t become a master of stealth and eaten without Orana catching you – stretch your legs for five minutes, have something to eat, then if you still want to – well, I don’t think the parchment’s going to escape while you’re not watching it.” He leaned down to kiss Anders’ temple, noticing faint ink smudges in his hair and across his brow. “Not like there’s a lake for it to dramatically dive into and swim for freedom.”

“I shouldn’t have told you about that,” Anders said with a little huff of laughter. “Not my finest moment.”

“Not your best thought through,” Hawke admitted. “But impressive nonetheless.”

Anders paused for a moment to look over the tray – rows of tiny sandwiches and small, cream-filled cakes, as well as grapes and sliced apples. He eyed them hungrily, then returned to his writing.

“I won’t be long,” he said. Just leave the tray – I don’t want you to be bored waiting for me, if you want to get some sleep or…”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Hawke plucked a grape and popped it into his mouth, perching on the edge of the desk and looking down at Anders’ writing. _Only in freedom can we truly serve man, and it is fear that inspires mages to aspire to more._ “How about – a compromise? Very fair, Justice will approve. You finish this copy and then you take a _two_ minute break and eat something.”

“Justice isn’t big on compromise.” Anders paused, then corrected himself. “And neither am I – you know how I am with this – if I don’t work on it when I can, it’s hard to get started at all. This one, then two more, then I’m all yours.”

“Alright, alright.” Hawke held up his hands in surrender, then clasped them in front of him to resist the temptation to continue picking at Anders’ meal. “I’ll keep you company while you write, then.” Hawke gestured to the neat page in front of Anders. “That’s all your writing – isn’t Justice helping?”

“He’s made a few copies. _Fear… that leads…_ sorry, just making sure I don’t get this wrong. His handwriting’s different from mine, we can’t switch mid-page.”

“Why is that? The handwriting thing, I mean.” Hawke watched Anders’ hand drift across the page – _We do not ask for power – we ask for –_ “did he write in the Fade?”

“No, in Kristoff’s body.” Anders shrugged, dipping his quill in the ink. “I assume his handwriting’s much like Kristoff’s.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“The memories are there, if I dig.” Anders frowned, glancing at the page he was copying to find his place. “It’s like trying to remember something from when I was a boy – it’s there, but not easy to call to mind. Not what I’m trying to concentrate on right now.”

“Am I annoying you?” Hawke grinned, swinging one heel to bang against the desk. Anders glared up at him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“If I ruin this page, I’ll take even longer to finish.” Anders’ serious expression cracked as Hawke caught his eye, and he reached out to rest his hand on Hawke’s thigh briefly with a smile.

“So, he learned to write from Kristoff?” Hawke tilted his head thoughtfully. “Or he knew how already, but hadn’t done it? How about speaking – we know he can talk to us, but what if it had been Orlesian wardens who’d encountered him? Or he’d been summoned by a Tevinter magister? Or…”

“I speak all mortal languages,” Justice said, Anders’ skin glowing suddenly, furiously, as he stared up at Hawke. “Hör auf mit deinen geistlosen Fragen und lass mich arbeiten!.”

“See, that’s barely impressive at all,” Hawke laughed, ruffling Justice’s hair. “I already know you speak Ander.”

The glow faded and Anders returned to his writing, chuckling under his breath as he finished his page and set it on top of the others to dry. _The mages will be free,_ damp ink shining in the low light. Hawke felt vaguely guilty for a moment – the manifesto was important, all three of them knew that it might be the last hope of a peaceful solution, and since the sudden end of the mage underground, it was the one thread of hope Anders still clung to. Still, the cause would not be served by Anders working himself to death, and on their good days, both Anders and Justice agreed. Hawke picked up one of the sandwiches, crumbs of cheese scattering onto the desk.

“Eat,” he said gently, holding it out.

Anders drew another clean sheet of parchment towards himself, brushing crumbs out of the way. He ignored the sandwich until Hawke was nudging the tip of his nose with it, which got him both attention and a scowl.

“I will feed you by hand if that’s what it takes,” Hawke warned, and Anders surprised him by smirking and lunging forward to snatch the sandwich between his teeth. It was small enough to be engulfed in a single bite, and Hawke wasn’t convinced Anders even chewed before hungrily swallowing it and returning his full attention to the task at hand.

“Andraste… suffered,” Anders muttered as the words flowed from his pen. “At the hands of mmph…” He broke off as Hawke pressed another sandwich to his lips, and took it without acknowledgment.

“Good,” Hawke murmured, reaching for another sandwich, then pausing with a wicked smirk and gathering a fingerful of cream from one of the cakes instead. “Here.”

Anders’ lips parted without looking at Hawke’s hand, engrossed in his writing. Hawke leaned in closer, slipping his fingertip into Anders’ mouth and smearing cream over his lips. He felt Anders’ sharp gasp, the flicker of his tongue against his fingertip, and then the gentle scrape of teeth as Anders closed his mouth and sucked with a quiet moan.

“So _that’s_ what it takes to distract you,” Hawke said softly, following Anders’ tongue across his bottom lip with his damp fingertip. “Something sweet.”

“I’m – not distracted,” Anders said, drawing away and returning to his writing. Hawke scooped up another finger of cream and he snorted, shaking his head. “Stop mangling my food, love, it’s not going to work.”

“No?” Hawke lunged forward and dabbed cream on the end of Anders’ nose.

A small scuffle followed, with Anders trying to duck away as Hawke swiped cream down his cheek and eventually managed to get his finger to his lips. Anders rolled his eyes, looking up at Hawke through his lashes as he gave in and licked away the remaining cream with a pleased hum. Hawke leaned in close, withdrawing his finger from between Anders’ lips and cupping his jaw as he pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, tongue darting out to lap away the smear he’d left behind.

“Maybe…” Anders’ breath caught and he tilted his head back, lips almost touching Hawke’s. “Just a short break…”

Hawke grinned, barely able to believe it had been that easy. He brushed his lips against Anders’, feeling his sharp inhale as they opened against his, dragging him closer and slipping his tongue into his mouth – and tasting a sharp, sudden metallic flavour, lightning and smoke and bitter copper, and a firm hand pushing him away.

“You are becoming a distraction,” Justice growled, his hand unyielding against Hawke’s chest until Hawke settled back into his place on the desk. “Have patience.”

The glow faded again and Anders remained, laughing as he turned back to his writing.

“I’ll finish as quickly as I can,” he said. “Promise. For what it’s worth, Justice is tempted too – he’s just too bloody stubborn to admit it.”

“Stubborn, I can work with,” Hawke said. He picked up another sandwich between his fingers, holding it out with one eyebrow raised. “Still hungry?”

Anders leaned forward, and as his mouth opened Hawke let his fingers fumble open. The sandwich fell into Anders’ lap, scattering crumbs down the front of his shirt.

“Oops,” Hawke said, not even trying to hide the smirk in his voice. “Wouldn’t want you to have to stop writing – I’ll just get that for you.”

“Maker, you’re impossible,” said Anders, leaning back in his chair as he continued to write. “Go on, do your worst. If Justice comes out again you’re going to have to live with the consequences.”

“Gladly.”

Hawke sidled closer, nudging his foot under the desk to brush against Anders’ as he slowly trailed his hand down his chest, brushing crumbs off the green fabric. Hawke let his hand glide across Anders’ chest, finding a stiffened nipple and circling it with his fingers until Anders’ breath caught and he bit his lip. There was a faint pulse of blue through his veins but no interruption, and Hawke knew he’d as good as won.

He dropped to his knees and shifted back under the desk and settled against Anders’ thigh, looking up at his face. Anders’ breath had quickened and he was nipping at his lip, unable to hide his interest even if there hadn’t been a very noticeable bulge forming between his legs. Hawke slid his hands up Anders’ thighs, enjoying the bitten-back groan and the way Anders shifted, returning both of his feet to the floor and parting his legs to give Hawke access even as he tried to return to his writing.

“I suppose you won’t want this, not now it’s been dropped?” He followed a trail of crumbs with his tongue and captured the sandwich between his teeth, chuckling softly as Anders’ hips jerked. He swallowed quickly, far more interested in the lacings of Anders’ trousers than the food. With a groan he _knew_ Anders would feel vibrating against his flesh, Hawke mouthed at the knot that held the laces in place, felt for it with his teeth, and tugged.

The knot came loose, and Hawke heard the quill tap against the desk as Anders discarded it with a stifled groan.

“What do you think?” he asked, lips moving against the fabric as it parted. He caught a glimpse of skin and dark blond curls – no underclothes, perfect. “Am I being _distracting_?”

“Very,” Anders gasped. His hands were clenched on the edge of the desk, head thrown back as he rocked against Hawke’s mouth. “Don’t tease.”

“Mm, I wish I could do more.” Hawke slipped his tongue between the laces, tugging to loosen them as Anders squirmed. “If I could, I’d take your cock in my mouth right now.”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Suck you hard and fast, let you feel my tongue on every inch of you…”

Anders’ hand dropped to clench in Hawke’s hair, hissing as Hawke’s breath ghosted over his exposed cock.

“Do you know how good you taste?” he groaned, letting Anders drag him closer but not close enough to touch. “How much I need your come on my tongue, down my throat as you…”

“ _Please._ ” Anders’ cock jutted free as his trousers slid down around his hips.

“I can’t,” Hawke said, chuckling at Anders’ frustrated whine. “Justice said _no_ , there’s nothing I can do for you.”

“Andraste’s tits, do you really think he’s not interested now?” Anders groaned, tugging at Hawke’s hair.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hawke tugged at the laces with his teeth, pulling the fabric down to fully expose Anders’ length. “Maybe I should just let you write.”

It was, Hawke thought, an interesting angle to watch the change happen. The hand in his hair clenched tighter, tight enough to bruise his scalp as his head was jerked back. Not too far to watch Anders’ cock become Justice’s, veins glowing through the skin and the flushed head sparking into brilliant blue. He looked up at Justice’s face, staring up into his blank, blinding stare, watching cracks race across his skin and the trapped essence of the Fade pulse through his veins. His lip curled in a snarl, a glowing strand of saliva connecting his teeth.

“What happened to _patience_?”

Justice’s response was a wordless growl. He stood, kicking the chair backwards and letting it clatter to the ground, hauling Hawke out from beneath the desk effortlessly. Hawke whimpered at the sudden painful pull on his scalp, but as Justice spun him around and forced him face down on the desk the pain was forgotten, replaced by an urgent heat building in his cock.

“Anders has ceased his work,” Justice said, leaning in close to grind against Hawke’s ass. “Experience tells me we will be distracted until we are satisfied.”

“Sounds like a good excuse to me.”

“You could end your teasing, and allow our arousal to subside.”

“Is that what you want?”

There was a pause, Justice’s hand still twisted in his hair and his cock still hard against him.

“It is not,” he said finally. “Will you accept punishment for your actions?”

“Have you ever known me to say no?” Hawke pushed his hips back, and Justice’s hips jerked briefly before he regained control. There was an expectant silence, and Hawke realised he hadn’t said enough – Justice had adapted to a lot, but still sometimes struggled with consent that was anything less than explicit. “Yes,” he gasped. “Yes, whatever you want.”

He groaned as Justice began to undress him, leaving him his shirt but exposing his ass and thighs, leaving his feet constrained in the bunched fabric of his trousers. The anticipation was almost painful, skin prickling at every brief touch of Justice’s fingers, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at every breath, the creak of the floor beneath their feet, waiting for the pain or pleasure Justice would inflict.

 “I intend to strike you,” Justice said, running his hand up Hawke’s thigh. “Do you consent?”

“You’ve ruined the surprise.”

“I appreciated it, before you and I were so well acquainted. You had Anders at your mercy, much like this.” His hand reached Hawke’s ass and he squeezed firmly, a small appreciative hum escaping before he continued. “You ensured I was comfortable, and unafraid.”

“Yes, but you know me. I like being uncomfortable and afraid, much more fun.”

“You are a strange mortal.” Justice bent forward to kiss the back of Hawke’s neck. “Consent, or I shall stop.”

“Yes…” any smart comment that followed was jolted from Hawke’s mind as Justice wasted no time, swinging his palm sharply up against Hawke’s ass. Hawke yelped – as much in surprise as pain – heat bursting against his skin where Justice’s hand had struck him.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness in Justice’s hands. He kept Hawke’s face pressed firmly against the desk, his hands flat against the wood to brace himself as Justice’s hard blows came in rapid succession. It felt as if his skin was glowing red-hot, and Hawke bit his lip until it bloodied as Justice continued to spank him.

Justice’s hand skimmed over his ass, pausing for a moment when it reached his thigh. Hawke parted his legs as far as they would go, hissing as his cock brushed the polished wood. He was painfully hard – throbbing against the desk as he rocked his hips impatiently. Justice seemed content to let him, fingers tracing patterns against his skin.

“You will be bruised,” he warned.

“Good.”

Justice’s next slap hit his inner thigh, pain that seemed to race across his skin to make his toes curl and strike like lightning between his eyes. Hawke whimpered, squirming forward as if he could escape the next blow. Justice growled and hit him again, a ringing slap against Hawke’s other thigh that made him flinch and cry out sharply, then bite his lip again to prevent himself for begging Justice to stop. It was almost too much – but he loved this, the raw power in Justice’s hands and the effortless way he took control.

Hawke’s fingers tensed into claws against the desk, his knees shaking and on the verge of giving out entirely. Justice slapped him again, again, vicious blows that rocked him forward, lifting his heels from the ground with every impact. Hawke couldn’t help struggling under the hand that pinned him – he wanted this, but every instinct told him to fight as the pain became overwhelming. Every inch of his skin felt oversensitive, flushed with arousal and an intense, intoxicating rush of fear. He trusted Justice completely, but there was something about being helpless and exposed beneath him that always left Hawke shaken in all the right ways.

“Justice _please…_ ” Justice hesitated and Hawke gasped against the desk, feeling the throb of his pulse through the inflamed skin of his ass and thighs. “More,” he finished. “Fuck, Justice, _more_.”

The next blow, finally, made him scream. Hawke slumped against the desk, mouth open as he panted harshly. His eyes welled up and the next slap to his thigh broke him, a choked half-sob tearing loose and tears streaking his cheeks. He could hear Justice’s ragged breaths between each loud, echoing slap, and finally a shaky groan as Justice’s hand stilled, moved to his hip, and tightened there as Justice ground his length into the cleft of Hawke’s ass.

“Enough?” he asked.

“N…” Hawke panted, lips slick with drool against the unyielding wood. He wanted to beg for more, but his body flinched even at the thought. “Yes.”

“Good,” Justice groaned, his hand dropped from Hawke’s hip and Hawke heard him opening the desk draw, groping through the contents. “I do not believe I could have waited much longer.”

“So we’re…” Hawke caught his breath, managing to laugh weakly. “We’re done with Justice is righteous, and straight to Justice is hard?”

“Your wilful misunderstandings of Anders’ words ceased to be amusing a long time ago.”

“Anders thinks I’m funny.”

“It has been several years.” Hawke heard the faint pop of a stopper being removed from a bottle, and felt a dropped spot of oil splash across his ass. “Even Anders believes you need new material.”

“Ouch,” Hawke laughed. “If you want to hurt me, can we go back to the spanking?”

“Enough.”

Justice’s voice was commanding, pinning Hawke in place as effectively as the hand in his hair. He arched his back eagerly, his breaths quick and sharp as Justice’s hand trailed over his inner thigh, briefly cupped his balls, then continued up and an oiled finger slid into him.

Hawke’s smart comments fled, leaving him defenceless against raw sensation. Justice’s finger moving inside him wasn’t _enough,_ not by far, but it was all he had and he rocked back against it helplessly, short, sharp cries against the desk each time it slid fully into him. He knew begging would only encourage Justice to draw this out, so for once he held his tongue and let Justice take his time.

A second finger joined the first and he took them easily, groaning as Justice’s pace increased and his free hand tightened sharply in Hawke’s hair. The spirit was panting, leaning forward over Hawke’s body to breathe against his neck, lips inches from his skin. Hawke longed for more – to be bitten, pinned in place beneath Justice’s teeth, feeling those muffled groans against his flesh.

The third finger almost pushed him to the point of begging, a hoarse _please_ halfway to his lips before he choked it back, groaning at the incredible feeling of being stretched by Justice’s fingers. Justice’s hand in his hair pushed him further forward, far enough onto the desk that he no longer had the purchase to move at all, hands scrabbling at the loose parchment as he desperately tried to grind back against the fingers buried in him.

“I am – glad,” Justice said hoarsely as he withdrew his fingers. “I should not be – but this distraction was a welcome one.”

Hawke twisted his head as much as Justice would allow, looking back over his shoulder to meet Justice’s gaze. He realised he hadn’t replied, but Justice didn’t seem to mind as he coated his cock with oil, moaning softly as he thrust against his hand, then lined himself up and sank into Hawke with a load groan.

Hawke whimpered – as much at the sight as the sensation, although Justice’s thick cock sliding into him felt incredible. Justice’s whole body was hunched over him, tense, almost predatory, his lip curled in a snarl as he began to thrust slowly. His glowing eyes narrowed, the bridge of his nose wrinkling in concentration as his hand returned to Hawke’s hip to pull back sharply with every thrust. The shirt he wore was loosened showing a V of chest, dark blond hairs gleaming in the light from his glow, and his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Hawke gasped, and was rewarded with a hard thrust that left him trembling, back arching, desperate for more.

“And you – exceptional,” Justice growled.

His hips began to rock faster, long, rough strokes that made Hawke groan each time he pushed fully into him. Justice descended onto him, chest against his back and forcing Hawke flat against the desk. He cried out as Justice’s teeth grazed his ear, hot breath and gravelly moans making his cock twitch. He ached to be touched – but he wanted more of this, he never wanted it to stop. Justice’s teeth tugged at his earlobe then dropped to his neck, and Hawke tensed in preparation as he felt Justice’s mouth open against his skin. His lips were soft and warm, and for a moment Hawke thought the gentle pressure was all he would get, then Justice bit down – hard.

Hawke cried out, writhing desperately against Justice. His cock was pounding into him, hot, tight pleasure coiling at the base of his spine with every thrust. The tugging at his scalp, the dull, bruising pressure of teeth in his neck, the rasp of Justice’s breath – everything combined to leave him nothing but raw sensation. His eyes fluttered closed and he let it all overwhelm him – let nothing exist except for the cock stretching his ass, the teeth in his skin, and the slow slide of Justice’s hand from his hip up under his shirt. Justice growled against his neck and Hawke understood, moaning eagerly as he nodded.

“Yes – do it, yes, yes…”

Justice’s nails raked down his side. White-hot trails of pain were left in their wake, and Hawke wasn’t sure if he imagined the wetness of blood on his skin. He panted harshly, moans catching in his throat as he thrashed under the onslaught of pleasure and pain. Justice gripped his waist, nails digging into the soft flesh there, then his fingers raked across his side again and onto his lower back.

Justice’s hands slipped under his body, gently pulling him up as his teeth released Hawke’s neck. Hawke missed them immediately, but was soon distracted as Justice tugged at his earlobe with his teeth and slipped his hands inside Hawke’s shirt to tug at his nipples until they hardened under his touch. Hawke was boneless in his arms, still halfway bent over the desk, rocked by every thrust as Justice’s hands flattened against his chest. One stayed in place to support him, while the other trailed down over his belly with a soft rasp of fingernails.

“Would you like me to touch you?” Justice growled, lips moving around Hawke’s ear and making his scalp tingle.

“Please.”

“Tell me what you need.” Justice nipped at the shell of his ear, then swiped over the sore indents with his tongue.

“Touch my cock – Justice please, let me come.”

“Are you certain?” Justice wrapped his hand around Hawke’s straining length but moved in perfect time with his desperate attempts to thrust, denying him friction. “You were so enjoying _teasing_ earlier.”

“Fuck…” Hawke groaned, hips jerking as Justice’s cock throbbed inside him. It was almost enough but not _quite_ and Justice knew it. “Please, Justice, _please_.”

“Is this not just?”

“No!” Hawke almost wailed, arching his back and grinding his ass back against Justice’s hips. Every slap of Justice’s body against his awoke fresh pain in his ass and thighs but it only added to the intense building of heat and tension inside him. He was so close – agonizingly close – and Justice’s quickening breath showed he was too. “I – I’m sorry, fuck, please just let me come.”

“I can be merciful,” he growled, and Hawke _knew_ he heard a faint chuckle in his breath.

Hawke reached behind him to tangle one hand in Justice’s hair, biting his lip and groaning eagerly as Justice’s hand finally moved. Slow strokes rapidly became quick and sharp, practised fingers curled tight around his shaft and pausing to swipe over the tip, smearing the fluid that beaded there. Hawke’s thighs shook, stomach clenched, he arched his back and came with a rough shout. His breaths shuddered as he sagged in Justice’s grip, cock shooting thick spurts across the half-written page on the desk and dripping over Justice’s glowing fingers.

Justice pulled out of him, gently lowering him onto the desk. Hawke whined at the loss, but _Maker_ he was sore. Justice’s hand was gentle as it rubbed over the reddened skin of his ass, and Hawke turned his head to see Justice’s lips parted and shoulder jerking as his other hand worked his cock. Justice groaned, glanced up to meet Hawke’s stare and mouthed his name breathlessly, and then he was _there,_ head thrown back as he panted harshly and spilled across Hawke’s bruised skin.

Justice slumped forward, both hands braced on Hawke’s ass to steady himself as his chest heaved. Hawke flinched – it was going to be interesting explaining to his friends why he wasn’t going to be sitting down any time soon – and Justice murmured an apology and moved his hands to the desk. He rested his forehead against Hawke’s back, still gasping for breath.

Hawke stayed where he had been left as Justice found a towel to wipe his skin, then helped him dress, murmuring encouragement as Hawke flinched at the brush of fabric over his sensitive flesh. Justice retrieved the chair, grabbed a pillow from the bed and encouraged Hawke to sit back, smoothing his hair from his forehead and kissing his temple as Hawke grimaced and sank down into the seat.

“You were successful,” Justice said, perching on the edge of the desk. He reached out and removed the ruined manifesto, and Hawke was relieved to see that the stack of completed copies had not been harmed. “You distracted both Anders and I from our work. I am glad you are an ally in this, or you would be a very dangerous opponent.”

“That’s what the Chantry’s missing,” Hawke snorted. “They need to send ruggedly handsome warriors out to distract apostates. Throw a few of us into the Circles too and no one will want to escape.”

“Your humour is in poor taste.”

Hawke quickly glanced at his face, worried he’d gone too far, but Justice had the same faintly bemused but endlessly charmed expression he always reserved for Hawke.

“Sorry, love,” he said anyway – just in case.

“I am not offended.” Justice stood, picking up the tray of food with a curious tilt of his head. “And your distraction was for a good cause, Anders should eat more, you are correct. I will see that he does.”

Hawke started to stand and Justice fixed him with a stare, the one he knew made Hawke weak at the knees and that was _definitely_ unjust. Hawke sank back into his chair.

“You owe me two copies of the manifesto,” Justice said, voice expressionless but Hawke was certain he knew him well enough by now to detect a hint of amusement. “That is your punishment, as agreed.”

“What?” Hawke spluttered. “You spanked me! That was the punishment.”

“Did you enjoy it?” Justice settled on the bed, lying back against the pillows and picking up one of the cream cakes.

“I…” Hawke considered lying, glanced at Justice’s face, and reconsidered. “Yes.”

“Then it was not a punishment.” Justice shook his head. “It will not take you long if you begin now. I have made you comfortable, I am not unjust.”

“So that’s it?” Hawke asked. “I have to copy the manifesto out twice, that’s all?”

“Correct.” Justice bit into the cake, eyes widening slightly as a muffled groan escaped him. It was usually Anders that ate, and Hawke imagined the flavour must be overwhelming. “Nothing more.”

“Alright.” Hawke gathered up a few sheets of parchment, propped the quill in the inkwell and grabbed one of the finished manifestos from the pile then stood up. He was still a little shaky on his feet, but it was easy enough to make it over to the bed without spilling the ink.

“What do you think you are doing?”

“I’m going to work in bed.” Hawke set his writing materials down on the bedside table and flashed Justice a grin as he flopped down beside him. “You didn’t say I couldn’t.”

“Mortals,” Justice grumbled. “You are dishonest even when you tell the truth.”

“One of my many gifts.” Hawke pressed a kiss to the corner of Justice’s mouth, swiping a smudge of cream from his lip with his tongue. “Do you really want me all the way over there?”

“Your writing will not be neat.”

“Can’t be worse than yours,” he scoffed. “I promise, if it’s not legible I’ll do them again tomorrow.”

Justice smiled – even after all this time it was still awkward, too much teeth showing between stretched lips, but Hawke had decided quickly that it was one of his two favourite smiles in all of Thedas. Hawke tucked himself under Justice’s outstretched arm, parchment propped on his thighs. He wrote slowly, quill often slipping between his thighs to splatter ink onto the sheets as he snatched food from the tray at any opportunity, making Justice grumble or – when Anders slipped back into his skin – causing Anders to give an indignant squawk and snatch the tray out of reach.

Finishing the manifestos was not quick work, but with distractions, it was hardly work at all.

**Author's Note:**

> The line Justice speaks in 'Ander' (aka German) translates to "Stop your inane questions and allow me to work." Thanks feathercoatrenegade on Tumblr for translating!


End file.
